


Thus spoke the Quartermaster: A selection of wisdom collected from Q-branch

by christinefromsherwood



Series: 007 Fest 2019 [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Q-branch as a real workplace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood
Summary: A series of more or less amusing scenes of varying length reported as theyreallyhappened in Q-branch.Will include chapters onhow (not) to cure the Quartermaster,how to catch the biro thief,how to lie to the head of MI6and many other important advice which every proper Q-branch boffin ought to know.It was one of the most beautiful sunny June Wednesdays that London had ever seen.Not that you could really tell or appreciate the fact, if you were employed in the underground labs of MI6.For most of the Q-branchers, the day brought nothing special. Except that it was the middle of the week, which meant that the 00s were prone to be extra difficult about their equipment.For the select few in the bullpen, however, that particular Wednesday was the harbinger of a horrid Thursday, a hellish Friday, a horrendous Saturday, and a hideous Sunday (funnily enough, the weather stayed perfectly lovely for that whole week). [-- fromhow (not) to cure the quartermaster]My 007 Fest 2019 effort. Let's see if I can get the number of chapters close to 31...





	1. how (not) to cure the Quartermaster

It was one of the most beautiful sunny June Wednesdays that London had ever seen.

Not that you could really tell or appreciate the fact, if you were employed in the underground labs of MI6.

For most of the Q-branchers, the day brought nothing special. Except that it was the middle of the week, which meant that the 00s were prone to be extra difficult about their equipment.

For the select few in the bullpen, however, that particular Wednesday was the harbinger of a horrid Thursday, a hellish Friday, a horrendous Saturday, and a hideous Sunday (funnily enough, the weather stayed perfectly lovely for that whole week).

The reason for this was simple: their boss, their leader, the Supreme Boffin Overlord Q, was laid low with congestion of the nasal passages. That, in and of itself, would not be enough to cause his team of hackers to dread coming in to work. Working in the proximity of the server fans meant that stuffy or runny noses were par for the course for all of them.

The crux of the matter lay in the fact that this time, the Quartermaster’s sickness coincided with 007’s enforced medical leave.

That meant that the agent was around ALL. THE. TIME.

It also meant that James Bond, presumably in a desperate need of an occupation, had taken it upon himself to cure the Quartermaster.

* * *

On Wednesday, Q’s team came in to find Bond lounging around on the boss’s sofa among the noxious fumes of something that most assumed to be a particularly fiendish biological weapon, but which, as they soon discovered, emanated from the boss’s favourite tea cup.

Behind that tea cup, with a stiff, grimacing approximation of a smile, sat the boss with one hand on his keyboard, the other hovering above the dread-draught.

“Go on, Q, the instructions said to stir it well, and then inhale the fumes for good five minutes to clean the sinuses before drinking.”

That was Bond who spoke just then, and they suddenly realised that the impression of lounging his position atop the sofa had given before was merely a clever bit of acting. 007 was drawn as taut as a bow string, and watched the Quartermaster like a hawk.

From the doorway they saw Q reach for the tea spoon with shaking fingers, then grasp it and with one decisive move plunge it into the cup and move it around vigorously. With a morbid fascination, they saw as the boss then pulled out the spoon and raised the whirlpool of evil right up to his face.

He was going to do it! He was going to inhale and then they were going to have to call maintenance to clean the floor again-

“What are you lot looking at?!” The Quartermaster’s voice cracked through the room like a lash.

They scattered to their work stations, and bore the brunt of the boss’s displeasure for the whole shift.

The general opinion was that, even if Bond had broken his right arm, that was no reason why he shouldn’t be allowed in the field, and good riddance. An agent like him should surely be able to aim and shoot with both hands.

* * *

On Thursday, only a small miracle in the form of Bess Hannity stopped them from calling security in panic.

Bess informed them that the figure in the horrific blue and orange cowl and scarf waving the gun around on the range was none other than the Quartermaster himself.

Bond was on the range with him, so there was no reason to fear for Q’s safety.

It was he who apparently came up with the idea of the warm compress secured to the face by the ghastly woolen accessories. The shooting was supposed to help make the Quartermaster’s ears pop.

Unfortunately, when they expressed the sentiments that the fact that Bond was involved did not overwhelm them with relief, since 007 was clearly an absolute fucking lunatic, this sharing of their opinion was overheard by the maniac and his wool-smothered charge both.

Their evening commutes home took on average two hours longer due to an unusual number and duration of red lights.

* * *

On Friday, they were determined not to incur the wrath of their Quartermaster again.

They came in, dove straight at their workstations, quite firmly determined not to comment on, or even notice any part of (what the vast majority of them agreed was) the strange courting ritual between the senior field agent and the boss.

“Do you know what the security brought into my office inbox today, Bond?”

They tensed and preemptively saved and began to back up all their open tasks. Each and everyone one of them recognised the danger in the soft tone of Q’s question.

“I don’t know, Q, was it the new suppressor bullets you pre-ordered for the Walther?”

They winced. The easy nonchalance in Bond’s voice was only bound to enrage the Quartermaster further.

“No. It wasn’t the new suppressor bullets I pre-ordered for the Walther.”

Sickly sweet, with the hard edge of a shard of burnt caramel. 

Bang!

“It was the Eco Neti Pot Starter Kit!”

The absolute fury in the boss’s voice might have shown better if he didn’t have a coughing fit right in the middle of the sentence.

“Oh, Q, this might the start of a real bad cold, I really think you should go see Medi-“

“This is my place of work, Bond! Do you understand that? And I am a grown-ass man who’s managed to survive one or two stuffy noses all on my own! I neither need, nor want you hovering over me like an overgrown mother hen, and embarrassing me in front of our colleagues with your immature antics!”

During lunch break, they all agreed that it was Peter Collins won the office pool on _When will the boss and 007 start sleeping together?_ He put ten quid on “by the end of the week”, and to all appearances this was something that had been going on for quite some time already.

No one could agree on when it had started though, so they settled on making that the topic of their next bet.

* * *

On Saturday, there was no Bond, and the boss’s congestion was almost gone.

That did not make things better.

No phlegm, or headache from congested sinuses were stopping the Quartermaster from snarling “Over my dead body!” at Bess when she asked whether Bond had been allowed back in the field even with his broken arm.

Neither of them dared break the icy silence that settled on their little corner of Q-branch after that. And no one dared make a single comment when the Noxious Tea from Hell made reappearance in the early afternoon, along with a strange Aladdin's-lamp-shaped apparatus they had never seen before.

There was a distinct lack of sound of clicking keys from the boss’s office.

They knew to forget that they ever heard groans to the effect of “fuck, bugger, bollocks-shitting idiot!”

* * *

No one wanted to go in on Sunday.

And this week it was not because of the simple fact that it was Sunday, the one day that the majority of people in white collar jobs were allowed to stay at home, sleep till eleven then tune in to the telly, or, if the lack of children or pets allowed, celebrate the day of rest by shagging their significant other with the occasional intermission for a takeout or two.

No, they didn’t want go to work on Sunday, because they had no idea how the situation between the Quartermaster and 007 had evolved since they had left the office at six the previous day.

This was something new and unexpected and not even Luce's best statistics tables could predict further development.

They sat at their desks, attempting to get their work for the week done in the nigh suffocating tension that suffused the department. Others were beginning to notice as well.

Martha from Lab 4 had stopped by with tea cake on her way from the break room and if Peter hadn’t restrained her, they were sure she would have gone on with the cake and the cat pictures on her phone into the boss’s office.

Normally, that probably wouldn’t have been an issue.

But that Sunday, no one knew what might happen, and no one was keen to risk upsetting the boss further when Luce was absolutely certain he would let them go as early as 4pm as long as they got all their work done.

BANG!

Peter jumped, Martha upended her plate with tea cake on the floor and Bess cursed quietly as the sudden fright caused by 007 throwing open the stairwell door caused her to exit her file without saving it.

Like an Arctic iceberg, Bond floated past them on his way to Q’s office.

“You called?” A polar vortex in his voice.

“Yes, 007, I did. Will you close the door, please?”

Then there was silence.

They looked at each other; then, hesitantly reached for their work again - 4pm like a sweet siren song in their ears.

“D’you reckon they’ll be alright?” asked Peter with a worried slant to his eyebrows.

They exchanged uneasy glances.

Who knew, right? Even if this little tiff didn’t break them up, who was to say that Bond’s antics on a mission, and the boss’s workaholic tendencies wouldn’t spell the doom of that little affair in the future. And how _they_ would deal with the fall-out, no one could even begin to guess.

They threw disdainful looks at Martha who suggested bringing in more tea cake regularly, just in case.

Honestly, was she daft? Had she ever seen the boss touch a tea ca-

“Oh sweetheart!”

The door-frame rattled. Their eyes widened.

“I missed you, James! I missed – ah – your mouth!” A breathy groan wrapped in a sigh. “So much! Ah- yes! – there! So much!”

“I was so worried, darling, the last time it was because of the-“ A low rumble muffled by the closed door.

“I know, James, I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Where can I touch you? Tell me, darling, tell me! I need to feel you!”

The door handle to the office jerked; they all jumped, and looked at each other wildly, suddenly wide awake from the strange stupor that the first endearment threw them into. All it would take was one passionately, yet unhappily placed elbow, and that door could burst open and they could all wave their early escapes goodbye.

“Anywhere, every- ah! –everywhere! Ah! James! Hnnng, right there! There!”

On the other hand, if no one was present to witness said inevitable faux pas…

There were _no_ ongoing level 1 missions, after all.

It was a matter of a couple of seconds, a few well-placed clicks, and their screens went dark as one.

“Do you – hmmm - do you like that, darling?”

Similarly to when they did the fire-drill a month before, they proceeded to the stairs in an orderly fashion.

“Ah! You know… you know I do, James! Yes! James!”

“Yeah?”

The stairwell door closed with a soft click, and no one remained in the bullpen to hear the following:

“Like that, love?”

“Yes. More! Like this, just like this! I love it! I love it! I love you, James!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is 0009 hours on July 1st for me, and this is thus my first fic for the 007 Fest.


	2. how to welcome a new employee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also a fill for the _Scavenger Hunt #12_ :
>
>> Cats actually run Q branch. Show us your cat (or a friend's cat) working diligently. 

“Errr... What’s _that_?! Why do you have that horribly edited poster of the cat in the break-room?”

Everyone turned to look at Marvin, the new guy,

Some with trepidation, others with disbelief in their eyes. Then they all surreptitiously looked around to see if Heather was there that day. 

She wasn’t.

They breathed a sigh of relief.

The boss had been giving Marvin the grand tour of the department. Now he cleared his throat. 

That meant further release of tension for the boffins. The Quartermaster would take care of this; they decided it was safe to go back to work. 

And anyway, Heather wasn’t there that day and it wasn’t as though she would have bugged the-

Oh right... she probably had. 

Well, no matter. Marvin was new; Heather had to understand that.

“Well then, _Marvin_ ,” the boss began. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment while I explain why what you just said is not something we say around here. Ever.”

“But I just asked-”

“No.” 

The boss shook his head and sighed. 

“Look, Marvin, you look like a bright young fellow. I think you could go far...”

The new guy preened and they rolled their eyes. Marvin would most certainly **not** go far if he couldn’t recognise that ploy for what it was: a cushioning for the boss’s following words. 

“But not unless you smarten up and follow what few rules we have around here. Now they may seem silly to you - maybe they are - but _this_ is **a high-stress work environment**.”

They exchanged amused glances at the paling in the newbie’s cheeks.

“I cannot stress this enough: the pressure we work under is at times enormous - almost unbearable.”

The boss drummed his fingers against the break-room table.

“We all have our little ways of dealing with that. I’m sure you’ll soon find your own. That, up there, is Bondie, Heather’s cat. It’s her day off, you’ll meet her tomorrow.”

Marvin had the look of a lost lamb to him. They mostly rolled their eyes, though Martha tutted sympathetically. 

“Heather is our top engineer and technology specialist. She was the leading brain behind the GeniusPhone, but she - yes, that amazing bit of tech you’ve just been issued - she mostly specializes in robots. You’ve met her Gigi when you came in.”

Marvin gulped and they snickered. 

The Golem Godzilla with her whirring gun barrels and snapping knife-jaws was not perhaps the most welcoming sight for a newcomer, but tradition was tradition. 

“Anyway, Heather likes to take Bondie to work with her sometimes, so she’s become something of a Q-branch mascot. And Heather felt it would be nice, if she made us this lovely inspirational poster for the break-room.”

“But it’s-”

“Marvin?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you a bright young thing who wants to go far in the world of international espionage, or no?”

“Yes?”

“Then learn how to take a cue from a room and shush.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. As I was saying, it is a _lovely_ inspirational poster.” 

The boss cleared his throat again, and they saw him check the file on his phone surreptitiously. 

Luce grimaced in sympathy. She could never remember Heather’s explanation either.

“Bondie #1 shows you the type of a glare we throw at the double-oh’s who are late returning their equipment or have fibbed beyond the suspension of disbelief on their after action report. Two depicts Bondie volunteering to test the new cloak of invisibility by hiding with it among daisies. Number three shows her in the Q-branch’s secret garden selflessly donating her pheromones to help Chem Lab with their experiments.”

They all appreciated that Marvin stayed silent for a while, merely blinking slowly. 

“May I have a question, sir?”

Q grimaced and glanced around nervously. 

They winced. If Marvin was about to ask what they thought he was about to ask... 

They almost didn’t hear the Quartermaster’s next words, he spoke them so low.: 

“Unless it’s about the name, yes, you may.”

“It’s... not?” 

Phew... Heather did not like that question. And frankly? They understood.

“Go ahead.”

“ _Do_ we have a cloak of invisibility, or a secret garden?” the new guy asked instead.

What?

They immediately stopped pretending to be working and turned to look at Marvin incredulously.

The boss huffed out a soft laugh.

“No? Of course not.” 

Marvin appeared to be mulling this over. They all watched him intently. 

“Alright, then. Where do I start, sir?”

The boss smiled his friendly smile.

“Lab 4. You’ll stay with Martha’s people for the day. She’ll be your direct supervisor. You have any questions, you go to her.”

The boss and Marvin got up. 

They all immediately turned back to their screens. Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw as the Quartermaster paused in the doorway, fiddled with his phone for a bit, and then said: 

“Marvin, seriously: Don’t ever ask about the name.”

Marvin first frowned in confusion, then shrugged his shoulders and gave a decisive nod. 

The boss sighed in relief, turned off the signal dampener and went to lead him to the lab. 

Well, back to work. The fun was over. 

Oh, but wait... They all tensed in anticipation.

Marvin stopped, turned around and walked a few steps back into the break-room.

“It’s a very cute cat,” he said casually and loudly.

Ha, maybe he was smarter than he looked. He’d fit in alright!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you will enjoy this more, if you are familiar with Q-branch's [Minion Personality Test.](https://www.proprofs.com/quiz-school/story.php?title=mjq5ntu1ng9g72) It's fun quiz, 4 multi-choice questions... You can try to play and guess which personality Heather is :D  
> (Sorry if there are ads there, they promised only a couple of weeks adds-less on a free account.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please, enjoy, comment and come chat with me on [ Tumblr](http://christinefromsherwood.tumblr.com/about/) . I'm TeamQBranch, in case you're wondering.
> 
> Sorry for any typos :)


End file.
